


Temporary Allies

by DAsObiQuiet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark!Harry, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAsObiQuiet/pseuds/DAsObiQuiet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or the Reason Why Ron Saved the World. It's amazing how one little detail can change the entire course of a lifetime, like say, not meeting someone on a train.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Smallest Degree

**Hesitation -**

Harry somehow managed to drag his cart and stumble clumsily onto the train as he fought back a blush. What a fabulous way to make his debut into the world of magic; trip over yourself as you struggle get the stupid bags aboard a magical train from a supposedly non-existent platform. Somehow, he'd made it though. He'd had to practically unload his entire cart, then drag the hulking thing onto the train to do so, but he'd definitely made it. Now he stood in the middle of the aisle with his cart surrounded by his bags and trunks that he'd pushed to the side of the aisle of the single-deck car watching the platform pass by through the door. By the time he'd actually gotten everything in, the train had already begun to move. He'd been lucky. Breathing a sigh of relief, he began to load his bags and Hedwig's cage back onto the cart and moved to push it down the narrow hallways, looking for room.

Of course, it would be his luck that not a single car was empty. He hesitated by one of the rooms that had only a single occupant. It was a boy, probably about his age with red hair who Harry immediately recognized as one of the children of the family he'd seen rush through the wall between the platforms earlier. A shame he'd been too frantic and nervous to approach them before they'd slipped through the wall to the magical platform.

Putting a hand on the door, he paused. Should he really just barge in and ask to sit down? It wasn't like he had another choice, but what kind of an impression would that make? Besides, he still felt like all of this was some sort of dream. He almost felt that if he talked to anyone, he might wake up, or it would all turn out to be an accident. He still half believed that the letter and Hagrid had been mistaken.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd been disappointed like that.

_Stop it, Potter,_ he thought to himself, realizing he'd been standing there for several minutes. _Just go in and introduce yourself._

"Are you just going to block the hall all day?" an annoyed voice drew his attention. Past his cart, three snobbish-looking boys stood impatiently, staring at him.

"You," Harry said, surprised (and hoping he didn't sound too stupid, because that certainly wasn't the brightest thing to say). The boy in front of the other two was the same boy he'd met in Madam Milkin's shop.

The other boy smiled a sort of prudish half-grin. "I was just taking a look around, seeing where everyone was. I wondered if I might run into you."

"Oh," Harry said, realizing he sounded dumber and dumber by the minute but unable to do much about it. This boy seemed to do that to him.

"I never introduced myself," the boy continued. "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He paused expectantly, as if waiting for Harry to respond. Harry glanced around, half hoping someone was standing behind him. He wasn't used to the lime-light, and even just being introduced like that before hadn't exactly led to the best situations. Dudley had made sure of that.

The only other person he could see was the boy inside the room who stared over at them through the window. Well, 'stared' wasn't quite the right word. 'Glared' would definitely be more appropriate. Whether Harry liked Draco or not, he found himself suddenly glad that the blond had stopped him from entering the cabin. He could just imagine how well that would have worked out when the boy obviously wanted to be left alone.

"And you are?" Draco said, sounding rather put out, like Harry had failed a test or something. He fought the scowl trying to creep across his lips.

"Oh, right," Harry said, holding out his hand. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

He didn't think he could have possible gotten a more animated response. The two boys standing behind Draco gasped and took a step back in unison while the shorter boy's eyes widened. Then his jaw dropped with an almost audible pop. They stood there, looking horribly undignified for several seconds, making Harry feel very exposed. He would have laughed if he hadn't been the one they were staring at...again. Somehow, he had the feeling he should really get used to this.

"Are you really?" one of the other boys asked after several seconds.

"Yes," Harry said uneasily, again fighting back the seemingly perpetual blush. Would he ever get used to being the center of attention? He doubted it.

Draco shot a glare at the boy who had spoken, and he backed down sheepishly. Harry frowned. He didn't much care for the blond boy, but he did wonder how the other managed to hold the two larger boys in check so well.

"This is Crabbe and Goyle," Draco introduced, almost in passing. Then he focused back on Harry again, suddenly sounding far more cordial. "So, do you have a seat?"

"Uh..." Harry mumbled, glancing over at the boy in the compartment. He'd turned to purposefully look away from them and out the outside window of the train. Harry sighed. "No, not really."

"Got here late then?" Draco asked. Then he came forward and stepped delicately around Harry's cart, as if touching anything on it would contaminate him or something. "We have extra room in our cabin. Why not come with us?"

"We do?" Crabbe asked. Draco shot him another glare, then turned expectantly back to the dark-haired boy.

"Yeah," Harry said with one final look at the other boy's back, almost wishing the red-head would come and rescue him from this. Sitting next to someone who would ignore him completely had to be better than these boys that reminded him all too much of his cousin. The boy didn't even acknowledge them. Harry forced a smile and turned back to Draco, who now stood beside him.

"Excellent. Crabbe," he shot to the taller boy. "Get his cart and take it back to the cabin. Help him out, Goyle. Let me show you around, Harry."

**Correction -**

Harry bit his lip, feeling rather annoyed at the blond who was laughing so hard, he'd almost fallen over. And yet somehow, he still managed to look dignified. After he'd spoken some more with the other boys, Harry had quickly reassessed his opinion. Draco didn't remind him of Dudley at all. It was more like Dudley now somehow reminded him of a sort of cheap rip-off of Draco.

Where Dudley had brute strength and a little money to throw around Draco had finesse and a lot of money to throw around. He'd wasted no time in pointing this out to Harry, and had even dropped hints that Harry could have some if he didn't screw up too badly. Harry got the impression that 'screwing up' actually meant something more along the lines of 'listen to what I say no matter what'.

He was really liking Draco less and less as the train ride wore on.

Harry found that he couldn't really say he did or didn't like Crabbe or Goyle as they didn't ever really talk, but they seemed to know why Draco was laughing because they looked to be holding back snickers of their own. The blond boy finally stopped laughing long enough to glance back up at Harry. They sat across from each other while Crabbe and Goyle stood on either side of the door, as if to guard it. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that several other people had been kicked out to make room for them, and it didn't lessen his feeling of unease; a feeling that had started when Draco had introduced Harry as his friend to just about everyone on the train. It had grown rather quickly after that.

"Did that big oaf, Hagrid seriously tell you that only Slytherin produced dark wizards?"

Harry felt heat rise to his cheeks, this time not out of embarrassment. "He isn't just a 'big oaf'," he defended.

Draco held up his hands as if in defeat, but didn't look the least bit repentant. "Whatever you say, Harry."

Harry ground his teeth. He didn't like how Draco said his name. It sounded too familiar.

"Anyway," Draco continued. "Him saying that just goes to prove my point. There are plenty of dark wizards who didn't come from Slytherin. Sirius Black comes to mind first and foremost. He was a Gryffindor, I believe."

"Gryffindor?" Harry asked.

Draco stared at him, all expression of mirth gone. "You really don't know all of that? Where have you been hiding?"

"With my Aunt and Uncle. They're Muggles."

All three of the boys suddenly looked uneasy.

"You can't be a muggle-born," Crabbe started, but was again silenced by a glare from Draco.

"I remember. Your mother was a mu—er, muggle born. Your father was a pureblood, right?" the blond asked.

Harry felt a deep resentment that this boy seemed to know so much more about his family than he did. "I don't know. My aunt and uncle never told me."

"Psh," Draco waved his hand as he rolled his eyes. "Typical. This is why muggles shouldn't know about wizards. They get jealous. Pathetic."

That was probably the first thing Draco had said that Harry didn't outright disagree with. In his mind, his relatives were pathetic, keeping all of this from him and then treating him so horribly. It had taken him years (and several books) for him to realize that he wasn't supposed to be treated the way he was. No, his aunt and uncle didn't physically abuse him, but they didn't exactly welcome him with open arms either. He'd always found it unfair that Dudley could just play video games while Harry had to do chores, or that Dudley got two rooms while he got a cupboard under the stairs. He never got beat, but he did get locked in his "room" often enough. They made sure to feed him three times a day when that happened, but it tended to be leftovers at best, or old, dry bread with a small glass of water at worst.

Draco must have sensed that he'd hit a nerve when Harry didn't answer. He eyed the dark-haired boy with a sly expression only barely masked with feigned sadness. "That's why I think muggle-borns shouldn't be let in school. Their families start to get upset, and before you know it, no one will talk to each other. Sad really."

Somehow, Harry felt that families being torn apart was the last thing on the other boy's mind. Annoyed, he searched for another subject.

"Who's Sirius Black?" he asked, remembering the name.

Draco's grin turned suddenly mischievous. "A rather notorious blood-traitor. Really, your aunt and uncle even kept that from you?"

"Why would they know?" Harry asked, still annoyed that the other boy refused to drop it. "They're muggles."

"It's because of him that your parents died."

Harry's blood ran cold as he stared at the boy in front of him. Hadn't his parents been killed by Voldemort? "What do you mean?" he asked darkly.

This time, Draco's smile held more than a little triumph, although for the life of him, Harry couldn't figure out why. "Your parents wanted to oppose the Dark Lord."

"You mean Voldemort?" Harry asked, in no mood to tread lightly. Crabbe and Goyle both flinched, but Draco only raised an eyebrow, looking impressed.

"Yes. Anyway, they had a secret keeper. It's a special spell," he clarified at Harry's blank look. "As long as that man didn't say anything, than no one could find them. Ever. Not even the Dark Lord."

Harry clenched his fists. "And that man was Sirius Black." He said it as a statement.

Triumph changed to satisfied as Draco shifted, leaning forward. "Exactly. Killed a dozen or so muggles and one wizard with a single curse."

It really bothered Harry that Draco seemed almost impressed by the act instead of disgusted.

"So because he...my parents..." His anger didn't seem to allow him to finish his sentences. He'd only just barely heard of Sirius Black, but his emotions had already gone well past rage and into a deep, burning hatred. Because of that man, he had lived the life he had. He'd never known his parents, or their history, or about magic, and he'd had to live with people who hated the fact that he even existed.

"Sorry to break it to you like that," Draco said, only sounding mildly sympathetic. "But see what I mean? Any house is better than Gryffindor."

The statement struck Harry as odd coming from someone who said that he'd leave if he got sorted into Hufflepuff, but he didn't care at the moment. He could only agree.

"Yeah."

xXx

_Not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor..._ Harry repeated to himself over and over while the old hat continued to speak in his head.

_My dear boy,_ the hat said. _You certainly have the potential to do well in Gryffindor. Bravery is a very honorable trait. But if your sure, than it better be..._

"SLYTHERIN!"

Harry didn't much care to be placed in that house either, but it was better than Gryffindor. In his relief, he didn't notice how the rest of the room seemed to have stilled in horror. The Slytherin table screamed so loudly, they made up for everyone else's lack of enthusiasm.


	2. First Allies

That first night at the school still felt surreal to Harry. Once they'd reached the Slytherin dorms in the Prefects had gathered all of the first-years together and explained the school rules, when they would get their schedules, what was expected of them and one or two other things that Harry knew he would have a hard time remembering. His brain, it seemed, had overloaded and refused to take in anything more that evening.

That was when the door to the common room burst open and their Head of House strode in, black robes billowing behind him. Harry's first impression of Professor Snape was something along the lines of 'vampire?!' The man had dark hair and eyes that contrasted greatly with his pale, sallow skin and he walked with a grace and confidence that immediately commanded attention and respect. From the gaze that swept across the gaping, frozen students, he also seemed cold and distant in a way that Harry knew he couldn't have ever comprehended beforehand.

All of this had gone through his head in seconds, and Harry doubted he was the only one to have such thoughts.

"Line up," the man said in a tone that dared anyone to disobey. No one did. Harry immediately scrambled to get into the steadily building line of students that was quickly forming across the Slytherin common room. Everyone stood at silent attention in moments, despite the late hour and the tired expressions Harry had seen on many of the students earlier.

Professor Snape walked silently in front of the line, scrutinizing everyone without seeming to really see them until he came to Harry. Then man stopped abruptly and turned to tower over Harry, who suddenly had a massive storm of butterflies practically tearing his stomach apart. He didn't dare move (had almost stopped breathing to be truthful) as the Head of House continued to stare at him with an unreadable expression.

"So, our house draws the celebrity," he said finally, his voice oily and condescending. "Do not expect special treatment here, Potter. You will not receive it."

"Of course not, sir," Harry said as his eyes turned down. Instead of meek, though, his expression hardened and he frowned. He didn't want any special treatment.

Whispers flew around the lines at that until Professor Snape cleared his throat.

Harry could have practically melted when the man finished his otherwise silent scrutiny, but Draco had told him at dinner to not show any weakness here. If he did, it would have dire effects in the future.

Vaguely, as he stumbled after his fellow Slytherin first years to their dorm room, he couldn't help but wonder what he'd gotten himself into.

xXx

Over the next few weeks, Harry noticed that Professor Snape practically ignored him unless Harry spoke to him directly. He never gave praise, but he never gave Harry the harsh, sometimes undeserved criticism he dealt out in generous amounts to the other houses.

With the almost overwhelming fear and/or fake friendship the other people in the school tended to show him, he practically welcomed Snape's treatment (or lack thereof), and began to look forward to the potions classes, if only because it gave him a slight reprieve. It bothered him that students would come up to him randomly and introduce themselves, especially when he went into the Slytherin Common Room. Often they'd try to buddy up to him as if they were suddenly best friends simply because Harry knew their name now. At those times, he'd find just about any excuse he could to get away as the only person he could count as even close to a friend in his house was Draco, and he was sure he didn't want to use that term with the blond.

Finally it had gotten on his nerves enough for him to approach his head of house after Potions class towards the end of the third week.

"Professor, I have a question," he said softly as he approached the desk.

The potions master looked up with a raised eyebrow but said nothing. Harry took this as ascent to continue.

"Sir, I realize that position means a great deal in the Wizarding World, but I was a baby when..." he paused, unsure of how to continue. "When I lost my parents," he finished softly. "If I stopped a war, I certainly didn't mean to. Why does it seem to mean so much to everyone else?"

Snape regarded him with that same unreadable expression for several seconds before he picked up his quill and began to write on some parchment in front of him. As he spoke, he didn't look up at Harry once. "You may not have meant to, Potter, but the fact is, you did. No one knows why, and that is why you are being targeted and placed on the proverbial pedestal. I suggest you use it while you have it."

"You mean, make friends, sir?" Harry asked, unsurely.

This time, Snape did look up at him, eyes hard. "Remember this, Potter: Slytherins don't have friends. Only temporary Allies."

 _So take advantage of it while you can_ , his expression seemed to say again. _It won't last._

Harry wasn't sure if he liked that idea or not.

"Thank you, Sir," he said respectfully and turned to walk away. Just as he got to the door, he turned back to see the Potions Master watching him. "Sir, could I count you as a temporary ally?"

Snape didn't answer for several seconds, and it seemed to Harry as if a miniature battle were going on behind the man's eyes, although his face didn't show so much as a hint of it.

Finally, he opened his mouth. "Go to your next class, Potter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I know that Snape's opinion isn't really...well, true. Slytherins can be just as good as anyone else if they want to be and Slytherins can have people they trust implicitly enough to be called 'friends'. Cunning and ambition doesn't always mean evil. Snape's just a bitter old bat and tends to be highly cynical. He really feels that way and doesn't quite realize the impact his words will have on Harry. *shrug*


	3. Connections

Despite Snape's warnings, Harry still counted one person as a friend, and that was Hagrid. He'd been rather upset when he'd learned that Harry had been sorted into Slytherin, but then he'd put on a smile and said:

"You'll actually give those old snake-'eads a good name, you will."

As such, during his spare time, Harry found himself more and more often heading down to Hagrid's hut. There, he felt welcome and warm. He didn't need to keep up some sort of emotional barrier either. The Slytherins were fake; Hagird was real.

This caused Harry to ask which house Hagrid belonged to. The forlorn expression on Hagrid's face nearly made Harry cry himself. Not that he'd admit it. At that point, he quickly changed the subject to something else.

The atmosphere continued to cool down as the holidays approached, the first of which was (of course) Halloween. Harry had to admit that he was looking forward to it. He heard from Draco that the school held a great feast (although apparently it was nothing compared to the feasts at the Malfoy house) and then each house would hold their own party. Harry didn't comment but he was looking forward to the feast. He'd already eaten more during his time in Hogwarts than he ever had growing up. It felt good.

He wasn't disappointed. Sitting down amongst the Slytherins, he marveled at all of the food. Now he seriously doubted anything could top the spread in front of him. These were the kinds of candies and pastries that he'd more often than not been forced to watch as Dudley gobbled them down, and that was in and above the rest of the actual meal. Harry had just helped himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face.

Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know." He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

The room burst into chaos as children ran around screaming, but Harry didn't see much of a point of following them into madness. He'd heard about trolls, and they hadn't caught his eye as particularly dangerous—at least nothing the staff and Hagrid couldn't handle.

He ducked as his fellow Slytherins jumped up and practically began crawling over each other to get to the door. Annoyed and a little disgusted, he glanced over at the Gryffindors. Half of them seemed to be eager to get to the door, the other half looked scared, but ready as they yelled at each other over the noise.

Scowling at their apparent lack of order (as well as his own houses'), he tucked himself under the table so as to avoid people running by and knocking his head. He knew from Dudley that he was at just the right head-knocking height for the random passerby.

Once the headmaster got them all calmed down enough to actually get them organized, the prefects began to lead their respective houses away. Harry heard several of the older Slytherins talk about ditching the younger years, but none of them seemed to have the guts to really do it.

Of course they wouldn't. Anything resembling courage seemed to be highly looked down on as it was a Gryffindor trait.

They sat, huddled in their rooms for the rest of the night. The only real consolation was the fact that Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and the others that shared his dorm (Theadore Nott and a Blaise Zabini) were all too afraid to do or say much, which thankfully left Harry to his own thoughts.

The next morning he wasn't so lucky. Draco was going on and on about the mudblood who had been sent to the healer's ward and was now in a coma because she had been unlucky enough to be where the troll had wandered to. He was sure they were exaggerating the story, but Harry still found it rather disgusting that they were laughing at the girl's expense for no reason other than she was muggle-born.

xXx

A few days later, Harry finally found out what Quidditch was. He watched in awe as the brooms and their riders swirled and dived in a sort of hypnotic trance.

"This is Quidditch?" Harry asked breathlessly. Next to him, Draco (who had somehow managed to squeeze in despite Harry's avoidance) shot him a condescending look.

"Really, Potter, your ignorance astounds me sometimes."

"Grew up with muggles," Harry defended half-heartedly.

They continued to watch the game, cheering loudly every time their team made a goal or a particularly spectacular move (unfortunately that seemed to happen more on the Gryffindor's side). They sat there for almost three hours as the game continued on, as no one seemed to be able to find the Snitch. Harry managed to actually get most of the rules from Draco once he learned how to ignore the sheer snootiness that poured off of the other boy.

"This is great," Harry breathed. "How can I get on the team?"

This time Draco's expression went from snobbish to doubtful. "You have to know how to play, be somewhat good, and you have to have the right connections."

Harry blinked, momentarily drawn away from the game.

"Connections?" he asked. Draco looked at him as if to say 'duh'. "I don't understand."

"You'd better figure it out if you want to play next year," Draco replied with a shrug.

Just then, a loud cheer broke out around them and everyone stood, shouting and screaming. Apparently their seeker had just caught the Snitch, ending the game. Draco had said something about the Gryffindors having to choose a sub-par player for their team this year.

The rest of the house cheered and celebrated around him. It bothered him that this seemed to be the first time he'd ever really seen anything like camaraderie among the entire Slytherin house, but he forced his growing annoyance at the people around him down and celebrated with the others.

xXx

The next morning, Harry strode down the isles, determination set on his features. Stopping about three fourths of the way from the end he turned and looked at the surprised and somewhat amused Slytherins staring back at him. A group of several students (many of which were Quidditch players) sat around one equally surprised Marcus Flint.

"Flint," Harry said as calmly as he could, although he feared his voice still shook (which he mentally kicked himself for as he'd gone over this a billion times in his head the previous night). "I'm sure you know me." Well, Snape had said to use his popularity while he had it. "I want to be on the team next year. What do I have to do to get in?"

xXx

"Do you not know bait when you see it, Potter?" Professor Snape snapped at Harry, who sat in his Head of House's office, glaring at the floor in front of him. He was angry at Flint for the suggestion. He was a little angry at Snape for discovering him in the restricted section, but mostly he was angry at himself for allowing himself to be manipulated like that...again.

"Yes, sir," Harry responded quietly.

"Then what in Merlin's name possessed you to actually go through with it? Sneaking into the restricted section in the library? You're only lucky I caught you instead of...other teachers."

"He said he'd consider letting me onto the team next year," Harry muttered.

Snape blinked at him before bringing a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. "The house Quidditch team?" he asked. Harry nodded. "We hold auditions for that, Potter."

Harry didn't respond.

Snape sighed, deflating somewhat. "My compliments for thinking that far in advance, Potter, but do you honestly think that this would make a difference?"

The dark-haired boy scowled. "D...I was told that I had to have connections to get in."

For several seconds the room went silent before Snape finally sunk to his chair. "Unfortunately, he's correct."

"So I had to do it," Harry concluded.

Snape shook his head. "It won't make a difference, Potter."

Harry's head snapped up and his own eyes met the potion master's dark ones. "What do you mean, sir?"

"For these kinds of promises, you have to have a station they'll be able to interpret as powerful. If you just subject yourself to their whim, you'll be completely overlooked when the time comes," the black-haired man explained. "You need to have something they will either fear or respect, and you cannot simply give into their demands. Make demands of your own, and make sure both of you will follow through."

"That's how to get connections?" Harry asked, feeling a tad overwhelmed and more than a little angry.

Snape snorted. "It took me years to understand that, Potter." They sat in silence for several seconds before the potions master spoke again.

"Why did he want that particular book?"

"I don't know, sir," Harry replied softly. "He just wanted to know the contents."

"Most wizarding books don't have the contents listed in the front. They were written too long ago and no one had bothered to go back and rewrite them in a logical sense."

"I know, sir," Harry muttered. He'd found that one out the hard way.

"So were you just going to sit there and read it all night?"

Harry shrugged. He'd actually figured he'd just get as far as he dared and then come back the next night. He had found it a rather interesting read. The subject of the book had been about planting subtle, magical suggestions in another person's head.

The Slytherin Head of House rubbed the bridge of his nose again. "The next time someone asks you to do something, ask them why first. As for your punishment, you will write an essay describing the events of tonight and then give at least ten solutions to the scenario. Your solutions must end with you avoiding discovery, whether you achieve your goal or not. Now get back to bed before I decide to give you detention."

A little stunned at his light punishment, Harry nodded and quickly stood. "Yes sir. Thank you, sir," he managed to mutter before he rushed out of the office.

xXx

"So, did you get it?" Flint asked as he came up to Harry the next morning followed by his own lackeys—the two beaters from the Slytherin team.

Harry blinked. They'd actually been expecting him to steal the book? He felt his temper rise. Just how stupid did they think he was?

"You know, I've been thinking," Harry said as calmly as he could (which admittedly wasn't exactly the calmest, but it would have to do for now). He would allow himself to grit his teeth, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of blowing up in their faces. "You're suggesting I put myself in danger of being expelled for you in exchange for a place on the team next year. How am I to know that you won't go back on your word?"

Flint growled, managing to look menacing and hurt at the same time. Harry gulped softly at the sudden show of force. "Are you saying my word isn't good enough?"

Harry forcibly swallowed his fear and stood up. "I'm merely saying it's easy to forget. I will give you what you want when I am actually on the team. And let me say that you will regret it if you go back on your word."

This time Flint actually snickered at him. "And just what are you threatening to do?"

Harry wracked his brain for something he could use, but nothing came to mind. He wasn't heartless or cruel enough to actually follow through with any threats—not that he had any decent threats in mind.

So he did the only other thing he could do. He bluffed.

"Threaten?" Harry asked, feigning confusion, innocence and horror—well, mostly feigning it. "I would never threaten my future captain."

Flint looked confused, and more than a little annoyed. "Then what do you mean?"

Then Harry got an idea. Dudley. The only thing that had ever even marginally frightened him usually dealt with his authority figures and/or teachers. "I wonder what the headmaster would think of one of his team captains being so interested in something so dark and bribing a first year to get it for him."

"You'd turn tattle-tale?" Flint sneered. "Then you'll never get on the team."

And that quickly, Harry won. He saw it too and almost blinked at the obviousness that he'd missed earlier. "Of course I will. They'd have to get how many new players once their captain was expelled? But you know, neither one of us should have to worry about it if you just make sure that I get a spot next year."

With that he turned and walked away, feeling utterly sick. He hated using something like that, but it was the only card he had to play. If they called his bluff...well, he could kiss Quidditch goodbye.

"Harry," he heard someone call out behind him and turned around. Draco walked up to him, grinning.

"Draco," Harry said with a sigh, noticing that Draco had started calling him by his first name again.

"That was actually rather impressive," the blond boy said.

Harry winced. "You heard that?"

"Half the school heard that," Draco deadpanned. Then he grinned again. "I admit I didn't expect you to catch on so quickly."

"Oh, yeah well, I'm a fast learner," Harry said, forcing a grin. In all actuality, he had no idea what Draco was talking about still. He didn't have any more 'connections' than he had before.

"You still don't have any actual connections though, do you?"

Harry deflated. Bluff called. "Not really."

"You know, I can fix that."

Harry eyed him warily. "What do you mean?"

"You're using what you have well, but eventually it's going to get old. Why don't you come over to my place this Christmas? You could meet my father. His word holds a lot of sway in the wizarding world..."

"In other words, you're saying you can make my life easier because I can count you and your family as...temporary allies?" Harry asked dryly.

"Temporary? Why temporary?" Draco asked. "With the Malfoys backing you, there's nothing you couldn't do."

Harry wanted to sigh. Or hide in a corner and just have everyone leave him alone. Instead, he forced a smile.

"I'll think about it," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This one is a long one. Ah well. :) Hope you like it. Some of my later ones are MUCH longer than even this...so get used to it. Although some are pretty short too...to the random reader, would you prefer longer or shorter chapters? Do you mind if some of them are nigh unto 7-8 pages and other are barely a page or two? Please let me know so I know how much to post. Personally, I prefer regularly long chapters, but that is just me.
> 
> As for something I feel I need to explain, Slytherins in general don't always feel like they can't have any friends or anything like that. Snape said what he did because he's a bitter old bat and in the midst of an internal conflict that he won't be resolving for quite a while yet (if ever). Doesn't mean it won't stop Harry from taking it to heart. *Points to title*


	4. Christmas

**CHRISTMAS**

Thankfully, he'd had to ask his head of house for permission to leave school grounds, and Professor Snape had instantly said no. Then he'd told Harry to let Draco know that it was backed by the headmaster and there was nothing they could do about it.

Gratefully, Harry thanked him and informed a rather disappointed Draco that he would not be visiting this year.

"We'll just have to have you over this summer then," Draco finished with a smile as he, Crabbe and Goyle walked out the door of their dorm room. "See you in a few weeks, Harry."

"Yeah," Harry said with a half smile, more than happy to see them go and not really wanting to dwell on the idea of their return.

They left Harry almost completely alone, and he couldn't have been more relieved. There were maybe two other Slytherins who didn't go home for the winter, and none of them were in his dorm. That tended to happen when most of the house students belonged to ancient families. Harry was determined to make the most of his newly-found freedom. For once he didn't have to sleep with the other student's snoring (Goyle and Draco apparently), didn't have to worry about them overhearing him say something, or about them interrupting/inserting themselves into his studies.

Not that he did a whole lot of studying at that point. Instead, he found himself happily exploring the school alone as the days went by, writing down everything that he thought was different, interesting or out of the ordinary in a notebook that he'd bought at the beginning of the year.

He'd already filled several pages by the time he'd reached the third floor corridor.

For just a moment, he was tempted to look in and see what was so dangerous. Then he decided that it wasn't worth the danger. He wasn't stupid enough to get himself killed over a little curiosity. Turning deliberately away, he continued to the next area, although it took him quite a while to put the corridor out of his head.

xXx

Harry was not used to getting presents. Not on Christmas and most definitely not on his birthday. He rarely got more than a pair of socks. So when he awoke to find several small packages at the foot of his bed, he couldn't help but stare at the pile.

Cautiously, he crept down and began to open them. Several Slytherins—many of which he didn't actually know—had gotten him a gift, and by the time he'd reached the four largest packages, he had a rather respectable pile of candy and other useful knick-knacks.

The first of the larger parcels that had been buried under the smaller gifts was from Draco, who had given him a Journal that looked extremely expensive; thick, brown leather with several spells placed on it for privacy.

It disturbed him how thoughtful the gift seemed when he still didn't think he'd count Draco as a friend.

The second of the larger gifts had been wrapped in thick brown paper. Scrawled across it in barely legible letters was the phrase "To Harry, from Hagrid". Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself and Harry smiled as he blew into it, not minding that it sounded a bit like an owl.

Feeling a warmth bubble in his heart, Harry put it carefully aside and reached for the third one. It was a large, hard square that didn't have a "from" on it. It only said "To Mr. Potter" in sharp, neat lettering. Inside, to Harry's surprise, was a camera. As Harry looked on, his eyes caught a bit of writing on some parchment. On one side he found instructions on how to develop the film so the pictures would move. On the other side, he found a small note in the same handwriting that had been on the top of the parcel.

_Use this as you see fit. Also be aware that if you received a gift from anyone, you will be expected to return the favor before the end of the day. You will also be expected to send a hand-written thank you letter for each gift no sooner than three days, and no less than two weeks after you receive a gift. Please keep this in mind._

Harry reread the note twice before glancing with a sigh at the pile of candies and presents. This would be a long vacation after all.

The fourth and final parcel was also anonymous and inside Harry found the most amazing cloak...

xXx

He spent the rest of the day scrambling to find gifts to return to those who had given him one. He'd ended up going to Professor Snape for some help. The man had seemed annoyed, but in the end had helped Harry out none the less. Of course, there were very few times when the professor _didn't_ seem annoyed.

When Snape and he had finished sending off every last owl, he finally glanced down at the list. There were only three presents he didn't have crossed off. He'd already sent Hagrid a book on caring for Dragons earlier in the year. The large man may not ever actually have a dragon, but Harry remembered how he'd said he wanted one on that first trip to Diagon Alley. He knew the game keeper would enjoy the present.

The other two were the anonymous gifts of the cloak and the camera. He had his suspicions about the camera, but the cloak...he had no clue. The note had said Harry's father had left it in someone's care...

Shaking his head, Harry looked up at his head of house and tilted his head in respect. "Thank you for your help, sir. How can I repay you?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You learn quickly, Potter," the potions master said. "But don't feel like you owe me anything. This just makes us a little more even."

Harry blinked. "Sir?"

"I will see you at dinner tonight, Potter."

Disappointed as he was at the obvious dismissal, Harry decided not to push his luck.

"Yes, sir," he said. "Thank you sir."

xXx

Christmas was probably the best meal he'd ever had, and after stuffing himself silly, he retired to his room early, but try as he might, he couldn't sleep. His mind kept wandering to the cloak he'd left under his bed. He'd have to find a good place to stash it just in case Draco and his lackeys decided to go snooping. Thing was, right now would be the perfect time to use it seeing as the room remained blissfully empty...

Not ten minutes later, Harry listened to the stone wall that sealed off the Slytherin common room close behind him and grinned in anticipation. He didn't particularly care where he went, just as long as no one could see him doing so. Oh the freedom this gave him! He could go anywhere!

A thought occurred to him then. The restricted section. The book that Flint wanted... Harry grinned as he turned around and headed back to his room for his ink, quills and parchment. Twenty minutes after that, he was breathing heavily as he carefully stepped over the rope separating the restricted section from the rest of the library. He knew right where the book he needed was, having spent almost an hour searching for it before.

Unable to keep a smile off of his face, he took the book to a table, set his lantern down and began to copy down the words.

After an hour or so of doing that, he switched to summarizing everything. It was late, he was tired and the novelty of the cloak had worn of long ago. Still, he continued to write. He had to get as much down tonight as he could. Snape had said to make sure that he could follow through with his promises. Then he wou—a sound behind him had him whipping around. In the dim light, he could barely see the furry outline of Mrs. Norris.

After that, it was a matter of scrambling to get his ink bottle sealed and stuffed into a bag along with the parchment and his quills. Just then, he realized he wouldn't have enough time to put the book back, so that ended up going into his bag as well.

Then he turned just in time to see Filch come to the door. Hoping they didn't have some way of tracking the book down, he ducked under the man's arm and ran for it. Filch didn't even so much as turn his head, although Mrs. Norris did.

Several minutes later, he finally came to a stop in front of a suit of armor, breathing heavily. He had been so focused on getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he now didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above that.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section." Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer.

It took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to groan when his head of house replied. "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far. We'll catch them."

Gulping, Harry glanced around, desperately looking for something— _anything—_ that could help him. Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead and Harry caught his breath. At this rate, they'd find him out of sheer luck, bumping into him in the corridor. Why couldn't the cloak also make him be able to pass through solid objects...like soon-to-be-angry teachers?

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply as he listened to their footsteps dying away. That had been close. Too close. He'd have to be much more careful in the future.

It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in. The rest of the broken or piled objects in the room didn't muster any sort of special reaction, but the large mirror caught his eye.

He returned to that room many times after that until the Headmaster himself stopped by and asked him not to. Not returning to the mirror was probably the hardest thing he'd ever done. When he'd been alone all his life, more-so now than ever, the only thing he longed for was his family and a friend or two. On the other side of the mirror, behind his parents, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle (Harry suddenly felt badly for not remembering their first names) were laughing and playing full-heartedly. They seemed unguarded and far happier than Harry had ever seen them. He saw several other students there too. No one seemed to care about another person's status. It was better than anything Harry could ever dream.

The last night of Christmas vacation found him in his room, unwilling to leave.

He'd never admit to anyone that he might have been crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Yeah, Harry never catches a break.
> 
> Anyway, I will be posting a new chapter of this every week for the next month or so, but I don't know what will happen after that because that's all I have written and I'm putting all of my stories on a temporary hiatus because of what I'm doing to earn money right now...and it's taking up ALL of my time.
> 
> For those of you who don't know, I'm an artist and I like drawing characters. Actually, if anyone here would like for me to draw an original character for them or draw them as an anime/comic book character, let me know! I'll get you all the details!


	5. Secret and Concern

**Secret-**

After Christmas he threw himself into his schoolwork with a fervor. It gave him something else to focus on. The weeks came and went in a sort of hazy blur, and Harry found himself to be more and more reclusive. It didn't bother him except when he heard the other Slytherins whispering behind his back. It seemed that, just as Professor Snape had predicted, his popularity and status as "The Boy Who Lived" had worn thin. They seemed to have all come to the conclusion that the reason he'd lived as a toddler was because he'd somehow been able to run away or hide. The thought went beyond utterly ridiculous and tended to make Harry want to jinx them on a regular basis. Problem was, he didn't know any decent jinxes. Or hexes even. So he took to haunting the library in between classes.

No one seemed to notice the book he'd taken from the library had gone missing, so at night, when he couldn't be down at Hagrid's hut, he would sit alone in his room and take notes on the supposedly forbidden tome.

It was rather interesting. The idea of being able to manipulate others from afar greatly appealed to him (maybe he could get them to shut up), and he found himself making personal side notes. In theory it made sense. Every wizard and witch had a great deal of invisible energy surrounding them that emanated from their magical core. Manipulation of that energy was how many witches and wizards performed accidental magic. The ability to manipulate another's invisible aura was the key to 'prodding' or 'suggesting' that someone do something.

In practice, it was almost impossible. Harry didn't dare try anything on living humans, so he came up with the idea of using the owls in the owlry. After weeks of singed feathers and most owls avoiding him on sight, he decided he'd need something a little less subtle to work with.

Problem was nothing came to mind.

By the time the weather started to warm up, Harry had worked himself into a rather solid depression. It was during that time that Harry began to realize that Hagrid was up to something. Once he finished the book and finally returned it to the library (thankfully without any further mishap), he'd practically taken up residence in Hagrid's hut when he wasn't in the library or class.

Then, one day, Hagrid hadn't let him in. He'd said that he needed a little time to himself. Harry had been disappointed, but he knew what it felt like to need your own personal time, so he'd let it be and returned to the library to study for the upcoming end-of-year tests.

When it happened a second time, he'd felt a little miffed until he thought that maybe he'd been around Hagrid too much. He had practically invited himself over almost every night for months, after all. After that, he'd waited almost a week before trying to venture there again. He'd even brought a basket of goodies he'd ordered through the mail—although Hedwig did seem to be a little miffed at having to carry the whole thing herself. Apparently Harry's reputation had spread among the owls, even outside of Hogwarts.

"Hagrid?" he asked as he knocked on the door.

"Who's there?" Hagrid's muffled voice came through the thick wood.

"It's me," Harry said loudly, feet shifting nervously as he berated himself for feeling so uncertain about his friend.

"Oh. 'Aven't heard from ye in a while, but I still can't entertain tonight."

Harry's heart sank. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

"What?"

"Did I do something wrong?" Harry yelled. He wasn't fighting tears. He wasn't.

After several moments of silence, Harry's heart sank even more. He was just about to turn around and head into the school when the door opened.

"Now wha' would get yeh to thinkin' that?" Hagrid asked.

"Well," Harry said, shuffling his feet, "you don't want me around, and I thought maybe I'd been rude, coming over here all the time and all and…I'm sorry!" With those words, he thrust the basket out towards Hagrid and stood there for several more seconds, unwilling to look up at the other's face.

Finally, Hagrid sighed. "It's not you," he said in a soft, rumbling voice. "It's me. Didn' trust yeh because…well…yer bein' a Slytherin n' all…"

Harry finally looked up, confused. "Didn't trust me?"

"I got a secret," Hagrid whispered as he leaned forward (which meant his voice went from booming to somewhat normal). "Come on in. Looks like I'm the one whose gotta 'pologize."

Harry followed the larger man inside with conflicting feelings. On the one hand he felt immense relief that Hagrid wasn't angry at him. On the other hand he was angry at Hagrid for not trusting Harry just because of a stupid house thing. It bordered on hypocritical. Wasn't Harry supposed to 'give those snake head's a good name?' At least the Dursleys were honest about hating him...

All of that was shoved aside when he stepped inside and nearly collapsed from the heat. Despite the warm, spring night, a hot fire burned in the fireplace causing Hagrid's home to feel more like a boiler room. Then something in the hearth caught his eye.

An egg. A large, dark-colored egg.

"Hagrid…is that…? You didn't…"

"Yeh won' tell anyone, will yeh?"

Harry groaned. "You did."

xXx

Harry spent the next several weeks trying to talk Hagrid out of trying to raise a dragon, and failed rather epically. Hagrid would have none of it. He'd won that dragon fair and square, after all (or so he said).

Frustrated and worried for his friend, Harry ended up in the library even more often than normal. It wasn't like he actually enjoyed studying, he just needed information and was willing to go through the drudgery of pawing through book after book (quite often wishing for the equivalent of a wizarding cataloging system and wondering why no one had thought to make something like this easier—sometimes he wondered if wizards really were as advanced as they claimed to be). After all, solitary time in the library as he searched for information was something he found extremely preferable to spending any time in his common room and being stared and whispered at.

He found himself wondering as the days passed if he had made the correct decision to come to Hogwarts. Sure he got fed more and he wasn't forced to unfairly do chores and other things when others weren't, but he felt like he was just as much of an outcast here as he had been back in Surrey.

Then he'd think of Hagrid, and would realize that despite the frustration the large man was giving him, Harry had found a friend...and that was worth it.

**Concern-**

"Oh, M-mr. P-p-potter?" Harry paused and looked back up at the front of the room where the rather pathetic figure of Professor Quirrell stood. The rest of the Slytherins and Ravenclaws in the classroom paused and glanced at Harry, who ignored them with a slight frown.

"Yes, sir?" Harry responded.

"C-could you st-st-stay af-f-fter c-class f-f-for a m-m-moment?"

Harry's frown deepened, but he nodded and made his way up to the front of the room, wondering how long his frayed nerves would be able to handle the man's stuttering. Hagrid had just sent a post that the dragon egg would be hatching tonight and the mere possibilities of what could happen because of it had Harry on edge and nervous. What if the Headmaster found out and kicked Hagrid out? What if he lost his job and had to leave? Harry didn't know what he'd do without his only true friend around and it scared him.

"You wished to see me sir?" Harry asked, his face a blank mask as he stopped in front of the man.

"Y-yes. I-I c-c-couldn't h-help n-noticing t-that y-you s-s-seem to b-be d-d-distracted t-today. I-is s-s-something w-wrong?"

Harry blinked at his teacher's concerned face, trying to ignore the twinge of pain he felt run through his scar. "No, sir. Nothing at all." He responded calmly.

Quirrell raised his eyebrow skeptically. "Y-you c-can t-t-tell m-me. I-I'll h-help i-i-if I-I c-can. I-I w-won't t-t-t-tell th-the H-headmaster."

Harry immediately found himself on the defensive. "I'm not hiding anything sir," he insisted. "But if I were, why would you do that?"

"W-well I-I h-have a p-project I-I'm w-working on. I-I m-m-may n-need h-help in th-the f-f-future a-and y-y-you h-have s-such g-g-good g-g-grades." He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "I-I f-f-figured t-that t-t-trust w-would s-start h-h-here."

The dark-haired boy blinked as he thought through the response. "And why wouldn't you ask one of the other teachers to help you?"

Quirrell blinked down at Harry for a moment, and in that instant Harry saw something different, a flash of intelligence and determination that belied the passive wisp of a man who had taught Defense the entire year.

Then he seemed to shrink in on himself. "Th-the oth-ther t-t-teachers d-don't m-m-much c-care f-f-for m-my c-c-company."

_I wonder why_ , Harry thought sarcastically, but he also felt his barrier break down just a bit. He knew what that felt like.

"I'll keep that in mind, Professor," he said finally.

"E-ex-xcellent, P-p-potter. Th-thank y-y-you. Y-y-you'd b-better b-b-be off t-t-to c-class n-n-now b-b-before y-y-you're l-late."

"Thank you sir," Harry replied with a nod of his head and turned around to walk away. He didn't notice the thoughtful look on the older man's face as he left, and ignored the slight increase of pain in his headache. It was gone by the time he'd gotten to his next class (barely on time) anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read Quirrell aloud...annoying doesn't BEGIN to describe it.
> 
> Anyway, a bit of fillers, but necessary fillers. Both short, sorry 'bout that. I think a lot of people will like the next one though. :) Anyway, please let me know what you think!


	6. New Ally

Harry sighed as he walked into the hospital wing and saw a rather large lump shivering and shaking in one corner. This was not going to be easy. The rumor that Hagrid had been found with a dragon had rushed around the school like a wildfire in dry grass, getting more and more elaborate with each retelling. Harry had already heard a dozen different tales ranging from something close to the truth (he'd hatched a baby dragon himself) all the way to him having wrestled a dragon and won only to bring it back to Hogwarts to protect the school.

Harry had rolled his eyes at that one.

Then he'd heard that Hagrid had been taken to the hospital wing, and he'd come immediately.

"Hagrid?" Harry asked cautiously as he stepped around the bed to the other side of the mass of blankets (Harry briefly wondered how they had a bed big enough, let alone one that could actually hold the large man, but dismissed it rather quickly—probably magic).

"O-oh, 'arry," Hagrid said in a nasally voice as he sniffled.

"Hi," Harry said gently as he pulled up a chair. Hagrid's eyes were puffy and red and his nose looked as if someone had replaced it with a purple tomato. Harry's eyes grew wide. "What happened?" he asked, horrified.

"I-it was my fault!" the large man practically burst into tears. "I w-was too rough w' Norbert, and he b-bit my nose!" Well, that explained a lot. Harry tried to look sympathetic, but he very much doubted that Hagrid had been 'too rough' with the dragon. He doubted anything but another dragon could be too rough with Norbert.

"W-well I-I couldn' jus' leave him there all alone, s-so I tried t' sneak him in here w' me n' Professor Dumbledore found out 'bout him." At this Hagrid's tears increased. "H-he said N-norbert had to leave! They're takin' 'im away!"

Harry didn't quite know what to say. He actually figured that getting rid of the beast was the best thing, but he knew how much the dragon had meant to Hagrid. And then there was Harry's fear that his friend would he lose his job over this...

Harry swallowed and patted his the man's arm sympathetically. "Did you get in trouble?"

Hagird paused and sniffed (probably no easy feat considering that nose of his). W-well Professor Dumbledore said he'd take care of everything with the dragon, but the Minstry's upset."

"You're not going to lose your job, are you?" Harry asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide his horror at the thought.

"D-dunno. P-professor Dumbledore said he'd do everything he could, but he couldn't make any promises. H-he also said he was disappointed in me." That last part was said so softly that Harry barely heard it.

"Don't worry, Hagrid," Harry said, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt. "I'm sure everything will work out." And if it didn't, Harry didn't know what he'd do, but he would do _something_ to keep Hagrid here.

Hagrid sniffed again. "Y-you really think so?" he asked.

Harry nodded and smiled. "Of course I do," he said.

The large man managed a weak smile through his beard. "Thanks, 'Arry."

"You're welcome," Harry said. "I'd better get going or I'll be late to class."

"You'll come see me again?" Hagrid asked as Harry got up to leave.

"Of course," Harry assured him. "You just get some sleep. I'll be back after class."

"See ya, 'Arry."

xXx

Harry wasn't sure whether he should be surprised or offended when he showed up after double Potions (with the Gryffindors, ugh) to find Hagrid asleep. He actually stood there for several seconds, wondering if he should wake the large man up or not.

After a mini debate, he finally decided to let his friend rest and turned to leave. Before he'd taken more than two or three steps, he realized that he heard a soft sobbing sound coming from behind a curtain on the other side of the room.

Curious and a little worried, he decided to see who it was. Cautiously he peeked around the screen and saw a girl with busy, brown hair laying in the hospital bed, crying. Part of him (the part that sounded painfully like Professor Snape) told him to just leave and not get involved in something that wasn't his business, but another part of him, still remembered crying in the dark when he'd been locked inside his cupboard.

"H-hello?" he asked cautiously. "Are you alright?"

The girl started at the sound of his voice and whirled to see him. Apparently, she didn't know what to think of him standing there as she just stared at him for several seconds. Then her eyes dropped to his badge and her expression fell.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said shortly, turning away from him.

Harry scowled, and that stupid Snape-like voice gained a few notches of volume, but he firmly stamped on it.

"You don't seem fine," he said dryly.

She stiffened but didn't say anything. Instead, she curled more tightly in on herself. Harry frowned, recognizing the defensive position. Then, sighing at his overactive conscience, he pulled up a chair and sat down. She glanced over at him, surprised.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"H-hermione," she said slowly.

"I'm Harry," he responded, beginning to wonder what he should say to start a conversation. Recognition suddenly lit in her eyes and Harry wanted to sigh. He knew what was coming next.

"Oh, you're the boy who was just in here talking to Mr. Hagrid a few hours ago."

Two things immediately stood out to Harry. First, she hadn't hit on the whole 'boy who lived' thing. That meant that she either didn't know (muggleborn) or she didn't care. It was a refreshing change of pace and he felt a little lighter knowing that his status as 'Boy Who Lived' didn't seem to factor in this girl's opinion. She'd actually acknowledged him for something he had consciously done, and that gave her an immense amount of points in his book.

The second was the fact that she'd called Hagrid 'Mr. Hagrid' in a respectful voice. The fact that she could give his friend the respect he deserved when very few that Harry knew did also made his opinion of her rise.

"Yeah," he said with a genuine smile. "I came to talk to him again, but he's asleep."

Hermione's face broke into a grin. "I could tell from the snores."

Harry was torn between laughing and defending his friend. "He's having problems because his nose was bitten by a baby dragon."

The girl's eyes went wide. "But I thought dragons weren't allowed here in England."

The smile on Harry's face faded. "They aren't," he said sadly. "I think Hagrid's in trouble, and I'm worried."

"Oh, so he did own the dragon. I can see why you're worried. You think he'll lose his place here?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I overheard part of your conversation earlier," she said as she looked away sheepishly. "Sorry."

Harry shrugged. "It wasn't like you could help it."

Her return smile seemed both relieved and grateful. "Yes. I've been here since I woke up a few days ago. I'd leave if I could."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He'd never been confined to a hospital bed, but the idea didn't appeal to him. He'd much rather have his freedom to move around.

"I don't blame you," he said thoughtfully.

A comfortable silence fell between them as Hermione moved to sit with the pillows against her back.

"You're nothing like the other Slytherins," she said finally.

Harry blinked over at her. "Excuse me?"

"You're different." Hermione continued to watch him with a thoughtful expression.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

The girl's cheeks reddened in embarrassment. "I'm sorry to point it out it's just...you're talking to me and you haven't insulted me once."

"Why would I insult you?"

Hermione looked away. "Because my parent's aren't magical."

"Oh," Harry replied. Well, that confirmed his suspicions rather nicely. He hadn't even had to ask.

After a few moments of silence, the bushy-haired girl glanced back up at Harry. "You don't care?"

Harry shrugged. "Why should I? I grew up with muggles and from what I hear my mother was a muggleborn."

"Was?" she asked, and then that recognition was back. "Oh, you're Harry Potter."

Harry frowned, but nodded.

"I've read all about you, you know. Your story is in at least half a dozen books," she said uncomfortably.

"I should have known," Harry muttered, disappointed.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Everyone treats me differently once they figure out who I am," Harry muttered in annoyance. "I don't remember what happened that night, and I don't remember anything about my parents. I wish people would stop gaping at me for something I don't remember doing. I'd really just like to be normal."

Hermione snorted. "You can't be normal, you're magical."

Harry raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, conceding the point.

"You know, I thought I'd fit in if I came here," Hermione said softly, studying the floor near her bed. "All of those strange accidents...when I was in primary school all of the other children were afraid of me. Either that or they called me a know it all and wouldn't even look at me." She sighed. "I guess people are the same wherever you go."

Harry nodded in agreement.

Hermione must have noticed because she looked back up at him. "I guess it's the same for you too."

This time Harry rolled his eyes. "Add onto that 'being a celebrity that everyone gapes at and wants to take advantage of' and you're pretty close."

More silence stretched between them, but Harry didn't mind. He still had a good twenty minutes before supper began.

"Have you ever considered going back?" Hermione asked quietly, staring at her hands.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"To the muggle world," she said. "I'm going to."

Harry felt a stab of disappointment. Here was a girl who at least cared less than everyone else about his supposed status, who maybe even understood him a little bit, and she was going to leave.

"Why?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Most people here ignore me. I'm here in the hospital wing because a boy in my house said some nasty things about me a few months ago. I was hiding in the bathroom when I was attacked by a troll."

Oh, she was that girl. Harry remembered how Draco had laughed at her and scowled. She didn't notice, however, and continued on.

"Besides, I've fallen months behind. There's no way I'll ever be able to catch up in all my classes and-"

"Why not?" Harry asked.

Hermione blinked at him. It was then he noticed that her tears had come back. "Pardon me?"

Harry stared at her. "Why can't you catch up?"

"That would be months worth of work," Hermione protested.

"And do you honestly think that something like this has never happened to anyone in the last thousand years?" Harry asked dryly.

Hermione cocked her head at him thoughtfully. "Something like what?"

"Like a student getting sick and being unable to attend classes for a few months. They have to have some way to catch you up."

The sudden, hopeful smile on Hermione's face convinced Harry that stopping to see if she was alright had been the right choice.

"Do you really think so?" she asked.

Harry smiled back at her. "I'm positive. I'll even start getting some of your homework if you'd like."

"Oh, would you?" she asked, looking as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Certainly. I'll come by tomorrow."

"Oh, thank you so much," she said, and once again Harry noticed that tears had come to her eyes. He wondered what was wrong this time, and somehow felt it was his fault.

"Uh, right. I'll...see you tomorrow then."

"Right!" Hermione grinned. "See you tomorrow! And I'll let Mr. Hagrid know you were here."

Harry rushed out of the hospital wing with a quick thanks and headed to the library. Tomorrow was a Saturday and they didn't have any classes, so he could go around to the different teachers and get some of her homework then.

Despite how awkward things had gotten there at the end, he was actually looking forward to talking with her again, even if she was a muggleborn Gryffindor. He almost grinned when he imagined what Draco's response would be.

xXx

It turned out that Hermione was a _very_ dedicated learner and with Harry coaching her, she'd already taken a large chunk out of the work she'd missed just a week after they'd met. It would still probably take her until the end of the year and perhaps even well into the summer to get her work done, but most of the teachers were more than understanding. Harry still found himself calming her down several times a day when she began to panic about not being done in time for testing.

As predicted, the other Slytherins were mortified to find that he'd become 'friends' with a muggleborn Gryffindor. Draco had tried to get him to 'dump her' at least three times a day, but, with a great amount of determination, Harry ignored them. He also became her partner in potions, and he found how much Professor Snape really did favor his house. Whenever something happened to their potion (which happened fairly often seeing as the other Slytherins had targeted both of them now and seemed determined to sabotage everything Harry or Hermione laid their hands on), Harry's head of house would always take points away from Hermione and never Harry. Both of them found it more than frustrating, but neither one was willing to give up their newly-found friendship to stop the actions.

The Gryffindors seemed to ostracize Hermione even more, as if she'd contracted a disease that could be spread by a simple touch, but Hermione insisted that it was only marginally worse than how she'd been treated before.

Both of them had come to the conclusion that they did not like the wizarding world the way it was now, or at least wizarding school. Still, Harry couldn't help but be happier and even more dedicated to his studies (he didn't think anyone who was friends with Hermione couldn't _not_ be forced into studying more) than he had been before. He finally had a _friend_ his own age, and not a fake sycophant either (he got into his fair share of rather heated 'debates' (fights) with Hermione, although they made up quickly and otherwise tended to get along rather well).

"I don't understand you," Draco said one night after Harry had come back from studying at the library with Hermione.

Harry just shot Draco an unimpressed expression.

"Why do you like her so much?" the blond insisted, falling into line behind Harry.

Harry blamed what he said next on the fact that he had been studying almost non-stop for the last several hours and wanted nothing more than to head to bed.

"Because," he snapped as he turned to Draco, "she's smarter than the entire Slytherin house combined and is better at magic than most of the second years, let alone the firsts." Draco sputtered indignantly for a moment before Harry continued. "And that's _after_ she's been in a coma for a good five months and missed out on all of the homework and lessons during that time. I'd be an idiot not to take that into account."

Alright, so that last comment hadn't been more than a poorly-veiled insult, but his sudden outburst seemed to have at least given Draco pause.

Nodding in satisfaction to himself, Harry turned and strode up to their rooms. He was already asleep in his bed when Draco and the others came in.

Funnily enough, the sabotage by the Slytherins stopped after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do this for two reasons: 1. Everyone's been bugging me about Harry getting a friend his age and 2. it helps to illustrate the point I'm trying to make with the story. Yes, I did this for a reason, not because at least Harry and Hermione have to be friends or what not. Their relationships is going to be rather different and NO, this will NOT be a Harry x Hermione fic (as that happens to be one of my all time least favorite pairings). I am considering a Hermione x Draco, but currently am not sure and even if I do decide it, truthfully...it probably won't last with what I have planned, so don't worry too much about this being a romance or what not. That isn't the point of the fic.
> 
> Anyway, thanks and review please! I like to know what people think and especially if they see I did something they don't agree with.


	7. Approach

The end-of-year tests went rather well in Harry's opinion. He felt he had passed each one with at least an 'Exceeds Expectation' and was feeling rather proud of himself. He'd never been able to push himself academically before as the Dursleys would get upset (especially when he surpassed Dudley—which really wasn't that difficult to do), and while he didn't particularly love to study, he did feel a sense of accomplishment that he'd never really felt before.

Hermione, it seemed, was working overtime to get the rest of her homework done, and had insisted in a rather frazzled manner that Harry not stick around while she finished. She was bound and determined to get it all done by the end of the school year. Frankly, Harry thought her rather barmy, but he wasn't stupid enough to say so.

He was heading towards the dungeon to drop off his bag before heading outside and into the warm weather. Perhaps he'd stop by and visit Hagrid (who, thankfully, had not lost his job apparently). He'd just decided to do so when he heard his name called.

"P-p-potter!"

Harry almost wanted to groan, but he suppressed the urge and turned to meet the professor. "Yes, sir?"

The man came running up to Harry (stumbling is more like it, really) and straightened the turban on his head before looking down at the dark-haired boy in front of him. "G-g-good d-day, P-p-potter," he said with a shaky grin. "D-d-do y-you r-r-remember th-the p-p-project I-I t-t-told y-you ab-bout?"

It took a moment for Harry to remember, but then he nodded his head. "Yes, sir."

"I-I was w-wondering if-f y-you c-c-could h-help m-m-me. Y-you d-d-do h-h-have th-the r-rest o-of th-the d-d-day o-off, c-c-c-correct?"

Harry wanted to sigh again, but instead he just inclined his head politely. "I do, sir. Could you give me a few more details on the project?" He knew somehow that Quirrell hadn't missed the fact that he hadn't given a straight 'yes' or 'no' when it came to lending his help. It was a trait he'd picked up from Draco: avoid the question and misdirect but don't let anyone else realize. He wasn't very good at it, but was rather pleased with himself for being able to recognize a situation where he could put the idea to use.

"O-oh, w-w-well, d-d-do y-y-you kn-know a-about th-the ph-ph-philos-s-sopher's st-stone?"

Harry frowned. He was sure he'd heard the term somewhere, but couldn't bring any information to mind. "No, sir," he finally answered.

"I-it's s-s-supposed t-t-to t-t-turn a-a-anyth-thing i-into g-g-gold a-and c-c-creates th-the E-elixer o-o-of L-l-life. I-i-it g-g-grants e-e-everl-l-lasting l-life a-as l-l-long a-as y-y-you h-have a s-s-sup-ply."

It sounded a bit too good to Harry, but he decided not to say anything about that. "What about it, sir?"

"W-w-well I-I've f-f-found o-o-out th-that th-th-there's o-one h-here i-in th-the s-s-school."

Harry blinked, wondering if the poor professor had finally gone 'round the bend. "Oh," he said finally. "And why would you need my help?"

Professor Quirrell rubbed the back of his neck again and looked around at the empty halls (apparently Harry wasn't the only one who wanted to go outside and enjoy the warm weather). Then, that suddenly, Quirrell had his wand drawn and pointed at Harry.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry started in surprise as his wand flew out of his robe only to be caught by Professor Quirrell. "I don't need your help, but it seems you're going to accompany me to go and retrieve it anyway." Harry's eyes widened at the abrupt change. It was like a completely different man stood in his Professor's place.

At first Harry didn't know how to react, but after a moment he took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. "Why?"

"Well," Quirrell said as he motioned his wand to the side briefly, indicating that Harry should move. Unsure of what else to do, Harry decided to play along and turned to walk in the direction the professor wanted him to—towards the moving staircases. "You see, I don't particularly want you to come, but my master insisted. Oh, and keep your hands visible or I will be forced to do something drastic."

A rather unpleasant feeling began in Harry's gut when he heard that. "Your master?" he asked slowly, keeping his hands up and to each side of his head.

Quirrell laughed. It wasn't kind. "Please, Mr. Potter, I know you are more clever than that. It's part of the reason why he insisted you come. He is so curious about you, you know."

Harry felt like his stomach had dropped to the vicinity of his knees as his scar twinged painfully again. Practically the entire wizarding world was curious about him, but Quirrell's tone seemed to imply that this person had a right to know. Many of them didn't know Harry, but he doubted very many of them would go through the lengths of putting a teacher in Hogwarts for a year just to get that information. One person in particular, though, sprang to mind almost immediately. "Y-you mean the Dark Lord?" That's what most of the other Slytherins called him—Voldemort. It made Harry sick to think that they often spoke of the man who had ruined his life with such reverence.

He knew he was jumping to conclusions, there had to be at least a dozen other people who could have hired Quirrell, but somehow, he also knew he was right. Who else would also want the stone so badly? The Elixir of Life sounded like it could do quite a bit...like perhaps return someone half-alive to a living body? Hagrid had said that many people didn't believe Voldemort was really gone but was just biding his time... The sick feeling in his stomach increased.

Again, Quirrell laughed. "It seems he was right in believing you would figure it out. Of course he would be, he is the Dark Lord after all."

Harry didn't say anything in response. Instead he clenched his jaw shut and continued walking. He knew that Quirrell had hidden both wands so no one happening by could see it, but he also knew that making a run for it at this moment would be a particularly stupid idea. He did not, after all, have a death wish, so he would not act irrationally—like some dunder-headed Gryffindor. And if he were truly honest with himself, he found he was curious as to why exactly he'd been brought along.

He also found he wanted to see this supposedly legendary stone. It had sounded rather interesting after all. Besides, if he could somehow find a way to keep it from Quirrell, then perhaps he could keep it away from Voldemort too.

"Stop here, Mr. Potter and open the door if you please."

Harry stopped and blinked at the door in front of him, then his eyes widened. Well, that made sense. They were standing in front of the third floor corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but the next ones are longer. :)


	8. Down the Trap Door

Uncertainly, Harry glanced over his shoulder at Quirrell, weighing his options. Should he actually open the door or not? He had no idea what was on the other side of the it. There could be anything...and yet, he doubted it was more dangerous than a fully-trained defense wizard holding a wand to his back.

Decision made, Harry leaned forward and opened the door. He wished Quirrell still had the wand out and visible. He could ambush the man rather easily when they stepped past the door if that were the case.

_But it's not, Potter, so think of something else,_ he thought to himself. He had a few books in his bag, but that was all. Well, that, a few quills in various states of disrepair, ink bottles, a few other nick-knacks he'd shoved in there at one point or another...but nothing of particular use. Not even his invisibility cloak.

He made a mental note to begin carrying that thing everywhere if he got out of this alive.

Once the door closed behind them, Quirrell let out a the slightest sigh and relaxed marginally. Apparently he'd been worried about being discovered. What did that mean? Why had he taken the chance? Simply because Voldemort had ordered it? Harry suddenly realized the depths of this man's loyalty and had to force down a gulp. This really was not a good situation.

At the end of the darkened corridor, they reached a door. Quirrell unlocked it with a simple spell that Harry had learned a few months previous and together they walked in. Harry felt his face go white as he saw the large, three-headed dog turn to glare at him.

He suddenly understood that there were many things worse than a fully-trained wizard holding a wand at his back.

Suddenly the soft sound of music filled the room. Harry glanced down to his side and saw an enchanted harp that had most certainly not been there before. He'd been about ready to turn and run, psychotic professors aside, but when he turned back to the monster, he noticed all three pairs of eyes seemed to be drooping. After only a minute longer, it retreated to the back of the room and lay down. A couple more seconds ensured that it would stay that way as Harry heard even breaths from it.

"It seems that big oaf was right. A good thing, eh Potter? It seems I didn't need a meat shield after all." Quirrell's voice muttered behind him.

Harry's expression darkened. He had a good guess as to who fit both of those rolls. He only knew one large person who was often mistaken for dim-witted and who liked dangerous animals.

"The trap door, Potter?" Harry glanced down at his feet and saw a large ring in the floor. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing and otherwise kept his face blank as he squatted down and pulled the rather heavy door upwards. Below, he saw nothing but black.

"Well?" Quirrell asked in a sickly innocent tone.

Trying to calm his racing heart, Harry took a deep breath and jumped. He landed on something rather soft that began moving almost immediately. He froze, unsure of what to do. Apparently freezing was the right course of action, because he felt the things that had wrapped around his legs and arms begin to loosen.

" _Lumos solem_ ," a calm voice said beside him. A bright light erupted around them and the plant that had been there to cushion their fall shrank away as if it had been burned. Harry recognized it now. He'd seen it in the herbology book earlier that year. Devil's Snare.

He suddenly wished that all he had to worry about was the wizard with the wand at his neck.

xXx

"Have you found it yet, Potter?" Harry scowled down at the man who sat by the door leading out of the room with the flying keys.

"None of the keys have reacted," he grit out as he reached for another one of the many keys around him. Apparently when he found the correct one, they would all react and swarm him. Of course, Quirrell had made Harry take all the risks.

"You'd better hurry. My master is getting quite impatient. Please trust me when I say you do not wish to anger him."

At the moment, Harry wanted to say that about himself as well. Between the life-threatening beasts and plants on top of coming through the equivalent of needles to find a special needle, Harry found he wasn't exactly in the best mood himself.

Just then his fingers closed around one particular old-fashioned key and the entire room exploded into movement. Harry barely had time to dodge as he cursed aloud several times. Knowing that he didn't have much of another choice, as Quirrell had locked the door leading back to the room with the Devil's Snare with magic, Harry threw the key at Quirrell, who caught it calmly and opened the door. Harry lead the other keys on a merry chase and then zoomed through the doorway himself, only barely passing the wood as it closed.

The broom vanished from underneath him and he barely stumbled to a stop before a loud clapping registered in his mind. He turned to see Quirrell with a mocking smirk on his face.

"Congratulations, Potter. It seems you would make a decent Quidditch player. Shall we?" Scowling, Harry rubbed at the blood he felt seeping down his face from where a few keys had scraped him.

Of course, that's when they saw the giant chess board and Harry couldn't help but groan.

" _Pas Voilisico_!" Quirrell said suddenly, and all of the pieces backed away from the door on the opposite side of the room.

Despite himself, Harry was impressed and he raised a questioning eyebrow at the bald man.

"You would be surprised what Professor McGonnegall will say and not remember when she consumes a drop too much," Quirrell responded, motioning for Harry to continue on.

Harry tucked that information away for possible future usage before complying.

Of course, Quirrell would have Harry act as bait for the troll in the next room. The chamber after that, though, seemed to have something to do with logic as differently colored flames sprung up on either side of them, covering both doors. Quirrell glanced at the note left by the bottles in the center of the room and laughed.

"Did you honestly think this wouldn't stall me, Severus?"

Harry blinked as realization hit him. None of these obstacles were particularly challenging for a trained wizard, but they were time consuming. They had been set up not to protect the prize, but to stall for time. Quirrell studied the bottles for a moment, then absently set the note down. Harry picked it up and read over it.

Logic. Professor Snape had used logic. This most certainly would have been a challenge for just about anyone in the wizarding world what wasn't muggleborn, at least from what Harry had seen. Even then... He was sure Hermione could figure this out, but right now, Harry certainly couldn't. Well, truthfully he was sure he could, but it would take him a while, and even then he wouldn't be sure of himself.

He had just reread the paper for the third time when Quirrell thrust a small bottle at him. "Drink the rest of it," he insisted.

Harry frowned, not liking the way the man ordered him around, but of the two of them Quirrell had the wands. With an internal sigh, Harry took the potion carefully, noticing how the Professor dropped it almost immediately, as if he didn't want to touch the Harry's hand. Harry took note of it with a cocked eyebrow before he downed the contents of the bottle. Immediately he felt as if his innards had been doused in an icy lake. Harry suppressed a shiver and, with the Professor's insistence, lead the way into the room beyond the black flames.

The room they stepped into seemed spacious and well lit by a warm light, as if welcoming them to stay for a while. Harry almost snorted as he continued walking forward. Then he almost froze as the familiar object at the far side of the room. The Mirror of Erised.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Okay, so this will be a series of related one-shots that boarders on a storyline. Some of the one-shots seem like actual chapters, some of them will seem highly independent. I'll usually only post one per chapter, but if they're short or if I feel like two different sections are particularly connected, I'll post two. Updating will be sporadic at best.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think!


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